A few years back, I spent two weeks in a day treatment psychiatric facility. Admitting this publicly might seem risky, especially online, but I believe it’s important to share my experience. Surprisingly, even my in-laws remain unaware of this chapter in my life, and I’m not permitted to disclose it. Some friends have expressed concern about the potential impacts on my career prospects and future aspirations, like running for office. But if anyone is seeking dirt on me, here it is: I spent time receiving psychiatric care.
Naturally, I worry about how others will perceive this information; the thought of it affecting my future is daunting. I’m especially anxious about how it might influence my dream of adopting a child, although social services assure me it shouldn’t be an issue if I have a letter from my psychiatrist confirming my mental health stability. Nevertheless, I refuse to live in shame.
According to the National Institute of Mental Health, 3.5% of women aged 18 to 44—prime years for motherhood—experience “severe psychological distress” annually. That’s a significant number of mothers. In the same timeframe, 5.5% of women deal with “major depression with severe impairment,” implying a serious impact on their daily lives. I fell into that 5.5% category, with my struggles often intensifying to a 9 on a 10-point scale. Moreover, over a quarter of hospital admissions in the U.S. involve mental health disorders, including depression and bipolar disorder, according to the American Psychological Association (APA). This shows that seeking psychiatric care is more common than many realize.
Interestingly, while 57% of people think that those with mental health issues receive compassionate treatment, only 25% of individuals experiencing mental illness feel that others exhibit care and empathy. As someone grappling with severe treatment-resistant depression, probable bipolar disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, and ADHD, I can affirm this disparity.
Typically, a regimen of medications helps stave off the overwhelming sadness, but when my treatment isn’t balanced, intrusive thoughts plague me—fears that my spouse might not return home safely or that my children could be involved in a tragic accident. I envision catastrophic events like asteroids crashing down or global conflict. The chaos of clutter, caused by my three children under seven, can push me towards frustration. I find myself sleeping excessively, battling panic attacks that feel like physical assaults. When these feelings overwhelmed me, my doctor recommended the day treatment program, but I quickly discovered how isolating mental health struggles can be; very few people showed up to support me during that time.
Society lacks the vocabulary for expressing vulnerability, for saying, “I’m struggling, please help.” The APA suggests seeking support from community services and support groups because often, family and friends may not offer the help we expect. In my experience, while my mother visited for a few days and some friends helped with childcare, the broader support network was lacking. There were no meals prepared for us or offers to babysit.
Upon entering the facility, I was greeted with kindness, albeit somewhat generic. I completed numerous forms and began attending group therapy. Research indicates that 57% of individuals with depression who participate in cognitive-behavioral therapy in a group setting show significant improvement, with 40% achieving full recovery. The process works, but it requires time and effort. Sharing personal stories fosters connection, leading to bonding among participants. There were plenty of hugs and tears. Throughout the experience, I kept a photo of my children on my phone to remind me of my motivation.
During my stay, I also attended individual sessions with either a psychiatrist or psychologist. The psychiatrist quickly identified that my issues escalated when I stopped taking an atypical antipsychotic that caused severe side effects. After switching my medication, I gradually started to feel more like myself. However, I still had to endure another week at the facility.
While I learned valuable coping strategies and had my medication adjusted, the environment was not as depicted in movies—no long, sterile hallways or locked doors. The other patients were a diverse group, all seeking to return to their families and jobs.
For many patients, the stigma surrounding psychiatric treatment and mental illness is heavy. We face a dilemma: suffer in silence or take the courageous step of seeking help, despite the societal shame associated with it. It often feels like a no-win situation.
Now, I feel much better. I spend time in group therapy discussing my children, and my psychiatrist understands that my primary goal is to be an exemplary parent. Every session and medication adjustment is approached with this objective in mind. When I shared my homeschooling endeavors in therapy groups, it was my way of demonstrating my capability as a parent. This is the reality for many of us living with mental illness; we constantly strive to prove our worthiness in the eyes of society.
I manage my mental health with a variety of medications, but I take fewer than most individuals with chronic health issues. My medications aim to regulate serotonin rather than blood circulation. I care for my children, write regularly, and my husband feels comfortable leaving them with me. While I still occasionally experience anxiety about potential disasters, it no longer consumes me. The time spent in treatment and ongoing support from my psychiatrist have empowered me to face these feelings without shame.
In summary, my experience in a psychiatric facility taught me the importance of seeking help and the value of community support. Mental health struggles are more common than we realize, and it’s crucial to break the stigma surrounding them. By sharing our stories and supporting one another, we can foster understanding and compassion in our society.